For You
by cloudtunnel
Summary: This fic was originally written for my friend, but I edited it a bit to fit a wider audience. Also, it's a Tom fic, but I couldn't find like a thing where I could put Tom and not Loki, so sorry for the mishap here.


For You

The brilliantly yellowish-orange light, which can only be described as sunrise, peered through the small window just adjacent to the queen bed; the sheets dishevelled. However, Tom was already awake and the scent of coffee was already pouring through the current flat he was in. He hummed a tune as he began to cook breakfast- making an entire buffet of the finest foods that he could find in the humble silver fridge that complimented the white counters with a light brown wooden top. Thus far he had managed to make banana, blueberry, and chocolate chip pancakes; and was currently working on a pan of sausage with gravy sat in a ceramic train directly to his left. The events of the previous night had left his blond hair in a curly mess atop his head, but he paid no mind to it, just as he paid no mind to the fact that he was unable to grab even his boxer-briefs as he clambered out of bed for fear of waking up [first name].

People had always said that the honeymoon-phase was to last for a year or two, and then after that, the "real" relationship would begin. However, Tom could not think past the deep love that he had for this woman, for [f/n]. She was the love of his life with eyes like uncharted seas mixed with an {eye colour} that would make a certain Disney princess jealous. Her hair was an array of {hair colour] strands that fell [hair length], showing off her round face and red cheeks- a mix that made Tom grin like a schoolboy every time he saw her. They had been together for about three years now, and the ring on his left-hand was a constant reminder of the woman who lay in bed and all of her beautiful imperfections, and how she, and only she, could make him feel whole.

Tom continued to hum, the first song they danced to on their wedding day. It was actually a joke between the two of them, and with Tom singing the lyrics as they danced, [f/n] would never forget them. Oh, the irony of how they first met on a Friday. The kitchen seemed to light up as Tom continued to cook. The white walls began to glow, and the tile wall in front of him began to shine, showing off how outstanding the detail was in the kitchen. From the white cabinets with the glass in the middle so that [f/n] would always be able to see just whose cup she was grabbing to the shelf that held the microwave that they had bought in Sweden since the man had just been too nice for Tom to say no. Everything about this kitchen was a good memory, and one that Tom could not help but hold onto.

Tom quickly took the sausage off the heat and placed it on a plate with paper towels to begin to soak up just a bit of the grease. The kettle was on, the coffee was ready, all that was left was to bring a tray up to his lover and see the ways her eyes would widen and gleam with the surprise show of affection. Tom pulled open a cabinet, not having to get on his toes at all, though he did enjoy the way that [f/n] would almost have to do a hop to get the tray when it was movie night or marathon night on the tele. He brought down the tray that his mum had given him on their wedding day, it had come with a note "Life is an adventure and love is a surprise so remember to surprise the ones you love to aid them on their adventure". He began to assemble the tray, placing the plates of pancakes, the maple syrup, the powdered sugar, the butter; all of the essentials as well as the perfect cup of coffee and a glass of milk just in case. As soon as the masterpiece was ready, Tom padded out of the kitchen and up the stairs; following the winding pattern until he ended up in his favourite part of the house- the bedroom.

Asleep on the bed was [f/n], her limbs brought in close as if she was holding onto something that was keeping her alive. Her expressions were soft and the lightest of purrs was passing her lips. Tom set down the tray on the night-stand, another purchase from Sweden, and climbed onto bed, crawling atop [f/n] and placing a kiss to her flushed lips. She stirred only barely, rolling over and muttering "Tom" as if she wanted it to be the first thing she said every day for the rest of her life; and she did. Tom just grinned and grabbed the tray, setting it down at the end of the bed so that [f/n] would not kick it off as he kissed her again and let the scent of the foods reach her nose and pull her out of her sleep.

"Happy birthday, my love," Tom whispered as [f/n]'s eyes widened and began to gleam just as Tom thought they would. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and grinned at the love of his life. She was all he ever wanted and more. He lived for mornings like this; mornings when he could see her smile and her warmth just radiated out of her. That was what love was all about.


End file.
